


I've loved you from the start (you know)

by Kiiesaa



Category: NCT (Band), SM Rookies
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff... maybe, Hansol is an angel, Johnny could be a jerk sometimes, M/M, Romance, Smut, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 20:22:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9842333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiiesaa/pseuds/Kiiesaa
Summary: Not once has Johnny ever say he loves him— Hansol never thinks badly about him because of it.Or: Five times where Hansol says he loves Johnny and that one time where Johnny finally says it back.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Super Junior's Raining Spell for Love. I've been listening to it a bunch of times on repeat while writing this (SJ's ballads are the best so yeah) and I'm emo about it.
> 
> To Rochelle; who reads my fics before anyone else does and curses at me when it's not good; who takes care of me well even though I’m older; who's always just one message away; who wipes my tears away whenever I'm sad; who makes me laugh when I'm down; who talks about HP and One Piece stuff with me nonstop; who brightens up my day and lets it stay that way; who loves me just the way I am; and who ships JohnSol just as much as I do; Happy Birthday! This fic is for you. Thank you for everything and I love you.
> 
> I endured a lot while writing this (Merb’s criticism mostly and my own tears) so you better appreciate it! Lol.
> 
> Always remember that you’ll forever be the Johnny to my Hansol, the Donghyuck to my Mark, and the Taeyong to my Taeil. (Romantic, right? Lol.) 
> 
> Shout out to Domi, Ros, Xyza, and Merb (especially him) for giving me insights on the flow of the story. Thanks y'all!
> 
> P.S: My tenses are all over the place. Sorry TT

****  

 ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_** ** _̶̶̶̶_**      

“You walked into my life as if you knew I had a place for you deep within my heart."

**_̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶̶̶̶_ _̶_**

 

**I**

 

_“You’re spacing out again,” Johnny whispers into his ear softly when he leans down, sliding swiftly into his heat, making Hansol heave a harsh gasp, a sharp pain hit him all at once, his insides squeezing Johnny in place. “Focus on me,” his voice is calm and collected, but traces of dominance lingers, demanding complete submission. Hansol’s knees go weak and he bucks his hips, searching for skin to skin contact, desperate for friction of sorts._

_“Johnnyyy…” Hansol whimpers, struggling to catch his breath, chest rising and falling as his pants are labored. The penetration isn’t foreign, they’ve repeated the act a gazillion times in the past, in different locations, in various positions. But the feeling is still overwhelming, so overpowering that it makes Hansol’s toes curl, head spin in different magnitudes, and stomach flip. “Do..Do something!_

_“Don’t talk,” Johnny hushes; his breath is hot, barely ghosting above Hansol’s skin, and yet it makes the latter shiver when he dips himself onto the juncture that connects broad shoulders to a slender neck and licks a stride. Johnny brings a hand and lifts the other’s leg, places it snugly just above his right shoulder, as he settles himself in between the gap. “Just feel. Feel me.”_

_But it is easier said than done._

_“Please..” Hansol begs wantonly, his voice comes out hoarser than he first intend it to be, yet he is in a state of non-existent shame, his need to be driven to the edge has overtaken his rationality, insensible to this point. “Please…”_

_“Relax,” Johnny coos, a hint of teasing in this voice before he groans lowly, the other’s clenching walls are disabling him from any motion. Caressing soothing circles with his thumb around Hansol’s hip when he grasps onto them, trying to get his partner to calm down and accept his length fully as he trials to push through those tight rings of muscles. “You could take me. Just relax.”_

_Hansol opens his tears-stained eyes when he feels Johnny slowly creeping into his entrance— hasn’t perceived he even closed them in the first place. Dark chocolate orbs meets honey hued ones as the younger stares at him from above, his forehead creases into knots, and Hansol resists the urge bat an eyelash, afraid to destroy the momentum they have. A synchronization of colors bursts before Hansol and the lust that radiates brashly in Johnny’s beautiful pair of eyes is enough to get him drunk, make him light headed, slightly tipsy, and he wants nothing more than to drown in them and never resurface again._

 

Whys and what ifs have always been a constant in Hansol’s life. He is a simple kid that leads a rather naïve life; plays video games till morning, fantasizes of impossible dreams whose feats are unattainable and touches himself under the duvet when the lights are off and when he knows his parents are asleep, to some overrated porno magazine like any other hormonal teenager— sexually deprive and curious.

Becoming an idol is something he doesn’t have in his imaginary ‘list of things he wants to do before he dies’, and yet there he is, on his way to the SME building after passing his rather spontaneous audition the week before. The thought of pursuing a career for the sake of his one-sided love with dance is alluring, tempting to the point that he willingly packs his bags, drops out of school, and leaves for Seoul without a second thought.

His parents are in shock when he tells them he is going to leave, they never expect much from him to begin with — more the reason why he wants to pursue it; he wants to prove a point.

To prove himself to everyone else; that Hansol can, and that he will.

It is his first day at the company building and he is nervous, a nauseous feeling has been bothering him since the night before and he is silently praying that he will not throw up, afraid to make a lousy impression on the people he’ll be forced to work with from now on.

Hansol is never the outgoing type; he prefers keeping most to himself and rarely talks at all. Only a handful of people bother to start a conversation with him, and  _he_  is one of them; one of those brave souls who dare befriend the aloof, Ji Hansol. Him.

The moment Hansol walks into the dance room where the other older trainees are and is introduced to Johnny— Hansol is surprisingly older in terms of age—, he knows right then and there that his life would change somehow, and it does.

All it takes are just three simple words and a genuine smile meant for him to know that Johnny is not like the rest: “Welcome. I’m Johnny.”

Hansol is at a loss for words, unable to string together a coherent sentence, and blinks cluelessly at the other with widened eyes when he sees the way Johnny’s lips curl into a grin. It makes Johnny let out a breathy chuckle, and offers a handshake which the older takes with trembling hands.

Then, the newcomers are asked to sit at the side lines by the dance instructor, to observe the older trainees as they practice, and Hansol awkwardly paces around the room in hopes to find a spot to sit on.

A boy with sharp features and silky black hair who is seating to his left keeps whispering side remarks when the ones in front begin dancing to Super Junior’s Bonamana. He snorts, crossing his arms, voicing out that he isn’t impressed at the slightest, and it catches Hansol’s undivided attention.

Their eyes meet for a moment when the stranger turns and offers Hansol a bright smile— the type of smirk that can blind a person—, a low conversation soon follows as he scoots closer to the latter.

His accent is heavy as he talks, Hansol finds out he is Japanese later on. He meets Nakamoto Yuta, his best friend, on that day for the first time. A wonderful friendship comes about from nothingness and blooms into something beautiful and worthwhile, something that is bound to last.

Yuta is everything that Hansol isn’t, but they become close friends regardless of the evident dissimilarities they have. Yuta makes up for everything that Hansol lacks in social aspects, makes up for his lack of ability to garner friends. Yuta attracts people like a magnet and sooner or later, his friends become Hansol’s. Hours turn to days and days turn to months, yet he and Yuta are still inseparable; they are each other’s soul mates, the right puzzle piece that surprisingly fits into their hollow being, making them whole again.

And no one can tell them otherwise.

But Johnny is different, Hansol thinks. The former isn’t as pretty as Yuta, isn’t as funny, too. But there is something about Johnny, something unique about him that stands out from the rest. No one stands a chance if being compared to Johnny Seo, Hansol believes.

Johnny is gorgeous; the way his silky hair falls softly to his eyes, damp with sweat whenever they rehearse; the way he moves fluidly whenever he dances; the way his brows furrow in concentration as they decipher songs to perform for their monthly evaluation; the way Johnny’s eyes flutters agonizingly slow against his cheeks; and so much more that will take a long time if enumerated one by one.

Johnny is utterly fascinating that Hansol cannot help himself but secretly stare in wonder and bask in the sight.

However, Hansol is a realist. He knows that the probability of Johnny liking him back is null. He is awkward, timid and sensitive, while Johnny is outgoing, clever and witty. Like Yuta, how he and Johnny turn out to be compatible for each other regardless their differences is something Hansol isn’t certain of— completely unheard of.

Coincidence, maybe. Fate, too cliché.

But whatever it is, Hansol is thankful for it.

They become close as years pass by; all the trainees are — being stuck in a dance room almost every hour of the day has its advantages. And Hansol knows that as time gradually fleets like how the cold winter wind becomes comfortingly warm when it hits his face and how stunning floras start to bloom outside the garden of their dorm, he starts seeing Johnny in another light, from another perspective that is almost forbidden, harboring non platonic feelings towards the other male.

He is the first to fall, Hansol knows that much.

But Johnny does too, fall just as hard; fall for Hansol’s lame jokes, fall for his quiet and timid nature, fall for his melodious laugh that only comes out when Yuta does something hilarious, fall for his sincere and rare smiles that are meant only for him to see, and fall for those eyes that radiates innocence and purity even though Hansol isn’t.

Johnny never voices them out, though. Not once has he ever say he loves Hansol. But the latter knows he does, he just does.

So, after months and months of sexual tension, of stealing side gazes as they practice side by side, of their not-so-subtle flirting, and a lot of persuasion from their fellow trainees, they eventually became together. How it happen isn’t a walk in the park. Hansol is stubborn and Johnny is emotionally constipated and has caused their friends tremendous amounts of headaches in a span of four years. Enough is enough. Ten has to put matters in his own hands and force them inside a closet by themselves so they can confess, slams the door in their faces and demand that they man up and suck faces already.

 

_“I’ll fuck you so hard,” Johnny grunts against Hansol’s neck as he inches forward, leaving chaste kisses along a straight line, letting the older get use to his size before he moves. “You’ll forget everything else other than me,” he assures, his movements are lazy at first, settles with a stable and steady speed before it turns erratic and frantic after a few minutes. Hansol is bouncing with each thrust, the sound of the bed creaking is deafening, is enough to make him forget that the other members are also in the dorm._

_Hansol knows that Johnny loves challenges, so in return, he loves provoking the younger. “B-bring it on,” he responds between pants which makes the younger smirk, hit his prostate spot on with a hard shove. Hansol throws his head back as compound shivers ran down his spine at the stimulation, and cries his name in a high pitched scream. The sound of his cries spread all throughout the room, and are probably heard by the others— their walls aren’t the thickest after all._

_Johnny prefers being gentle, slow and passionate whenever they fuck._

_But today isn’t one of those days._

_He moves fast, digs deep and hits hard._

_Johnny is a sex god, Hansol believes. A living Adonis, an offspring of Zeus himself, a captivating piece of art, shaped into perfection that descends from the heavens and roams the earth to simply let mere mortals fall and suffer, for they are never worthy of him and are only allowed to stare from afar. Johnny knows the right angles, the right words to say, and the right buttons to push, leaving Hansol’s body aching in intense pleasure and wanting for more, wanting to be filled to the hilt, wanting to remember the shape of the younger’s cock buried deep in him._

_Hansol knows that Johnny loves wrecking him, loves spilling inside and loves it more when he begs. But Hansol knows that Johnny loves marking him more than anything; loves biting and sucking along his sun kissed skin, leaving few marks on the same spots over and over again in his wake to remind Hansol in the morning who he belongs to._

_Hansol isn’t so sure why Johnny likes that, though, isn’t sure if it is some kind of kink of his or not. But after some time, as Hansol looks at himself in the mirror, admiring the purple bruises painted across all over his skin, he feels warm at the spectacle. It somehow gives him the illusion that Johnny marks him permanently- imprints himself not just on his body but also in the depths of his heart. He knows it is only temporary, that even though he has to wear ridiculous turtle necks in the morning to hide them from prying and curious eyes, the mark is bound to disappear in a few days. But he doesn’t care. To Hansol, it is for eternity._

_And when Johnny has Hansol clutching tightly against the sheets for leverage, the older twisting and turning his body, in search of something to keep him grounded and sane— spine curved beautifully and legs spread while Johnny’s buries himself so deep in that tight warmth— Johnny whispers, lips pressing to a thudding pulse, admiring another mark he had left on the very spot, “wanna make you mine.”_

_Hansol’s jaw turns slack and droll is coming out from the corner of his lips down to the pillow beneath him. He is in cloud nine, utterly lost and his lips hurt because Johnny is always so greedy but he manages to croak out, “Do it- Ah! Fuck… make me yours…” Johnny is like a piston –out, in, out, in— hits his sweet spot continuously, and he can’t focus on anything besides the ecstasy._

_The pleasure Johnny gives him is indescribable, is unearthly, something beyond imaginable that it overrides his senses. It is almost maddening; but it is the sweetest kind of insanity. “ **I love you** ,” Hansol whispers, needy and sincere when drops of tears fall from his eyes. But Johnny is either too engrossed to hear it or answer back._

 

**II**

 

Hansol loathes mornings ever since before, it is the bane of his existence. He hates the feeling of crawling out of his warm bed, untangling his limbs off his soft duvet at the break of dawn to prepare for his day, detests breakfast because coffee is a must in the dorm and the aroma of brewed caffeine never suits his taste and is always off putting. Morning showers are also NOT a godsend –they rudely awaken his lazy body and drowsy consciousness, and makes him grumble, shiver and curse at the coldness of the morning water that comes out from the shower head.

There is always something about being systematically woken up and forced to appease to a time table he has no say over that has always rubbed him the wrong way. Waking up from a peaceful slumber just to head off to practice; practices that wear them off, practices their asses off so that they can debut, a debut that’s uncertain and isn’t assured to any of them. But still they wake up, wake up and work hard, for themselves and for the people they love.

Being put into SR15B should have been enough, should have suffice his hunger to perform on stage, but the idea of debuting always leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. Most especially when the other members’ careers are slowly taking flight, they are starting to achieve their dreams one by one, in different units while they are left behind— Hansol and Johnny— two of the oldest trainees in the company. Hansol does not want to remember the horrible surge of jealousy he feels when the younger members of SM Rookies are informed that they are going to debut in NCT Dream after NCT 127’s promotions. Hansol loves the kids like they are his own so he feels guilty, pities himself for envying them when he should have been proud and happy for them instead. After he collects himself, musters the courage, he congratulates them all and even traps Jaemin— his favorite— in a bone crashing embrace. They deserve it; every one of them does. They work hard just like the rest anyway.

But it isn’t the same anymore when the kids began preparing for their debut. The dorm feels lonely without them, and the other boys, being there. Silence envelops the place that they all call home, by day and night— it isn’t a nice feeling. Hansol misses Jaemin and Yuta the most.

But, see, he doesn’t really hate the mornings like he used to, not anymore, not that much.

Not when he can wake up to a warm body besides his, strong arms wrapped around his waist in a possessive manner when he stirs, Johnny breathing down his neck as he is still fast asleep and spooning him from behind.

Not when he can stare at Johnny’s gorgeous face if he turns and think about the times before they met, now that their dating and everything else after.

Hansol likes the fact that he can kiss Johnny awake, and coax him into sharing the shower since the younger kids have already left for school. They have the dorm all to themselves for Kun isn’t there too— the younger went back to China for a wee long vacation, wanting to escape the pressure that being a SM trainee entitled them of.

Hansol likes it better when Johnny turns down his shower offer in favor of cooking him breakfast instead. Sure, Jaehyun and Taeyong are the resident chefs but Johnny is a force to be reckoned with in the kitchen, too. He will choose Johnny’s cooking above the others any day.

Hansol thinks back of the times when Johnny will be the first to rise and the latter likes to be creative when he wakes Hansol up. Likes to pull back the covers that they both share and works his mouth against the seam of boxer-briefs, making Hansol squirm, buck, and moan his name while half-asleep, not realizing that it isn’t a dream until he is coming in Johnny’s mouth. And Hansol definitely likes to return the favor. By tenfold. Leaving his own body sore yet fulfilled, content that he has been able to quench Johnny’s thirst for morning sex.

But, what Hansol really loves about the mornings is the fact that Johnny is there when he wakes up. That Johnny will always be there with him because he is never letting him go.

Sometimes, Hansol thinks if he is being selfish, keeping Johnny to himself, being happy that he hasn’t debut yet when he knows that the younger deserves it more than anyone — training for almost 9 years — just so they can be together. One cannot easily blame him though. Hansol loves it when Johnny’s around.

He loves Johnny so much.

Loves it when they are sitting at the little table in the kitchen, Johnny drinking his coffee while Hansol makes hot choco and eats breakfast, like a domestic married couple. _Johnny watches him with a lopsided smile, anticipating what the older will say._

_“It’s good, you tried something new,” Hansol compliments the simple yet delicious meal his boyfriend took the time to cook for him._

_Johnny will nod or shake his head depending on the meal before he asks, “You just saying that? You’re not being biased?”_

_“Of course! I love the food that you cook,” Hansol answers. “ **And I love you, too**.”_

_Johnny laughs. “Damn right!” He then stands, leans in, and kisses Hansol –his hair, his forehead, his nose, or his lips. “I’ll see you for lunch, yeah?” he prompts, he has to go to practice early today._

_“Definitely.” Ah, Hansol loves Johnny so much._

 

**III**

 

Hansol never stop and contemplate about it before— there is never a reason to— but after Johnny came into his life like a hurricane, like a typhoon; he is certain, there is a really indeed a big difference between just plain fucking and making love.

Fucking is easy.

It’s sensuous and wild. It’s impulsive, unplanned and mostly caused by the surge of the moment. It’s Hansol hiked up against the wall with his legs hooked around the crook of Johnny’s elbows as the younger lifts him up effortlessly, his arms around the younger’s neck, occasionally gripping onto his hair, and Johnny’s teeth on his shoulder. It’s Johnny thrusting into that tight, tight, heat and that excruciating suction with abandon and want and need, being stimulated on by the throaty “harder”, “faster”, “there, there, there”, tumbling from Hansol’s red and bruised lips in between pants as Johnny bites his sensitive flesh. Pleas pass Hansol’s without remorse, and Johnny is more than willing to comply with all of his requests. It’s Johnny possessively marking Hansol’s tanned skin yet intentionally placing reddening splotches because Hansol is Johnny’s and everyone needs to know it or get it or see it for themselves. Both indifferent if the older sports hickeys in places the others will easily see. Hansol isn’t ashamed of them anyway.

It’s hectic, rushed, rough and vulgar. Almost primal.

That’s fucking.

 

Making love is different, very different.

It’s tender and intense. It’s unhurried and careful. It’s Johnny sitting against the headboard of the bed with his fingers loosely laced with his. It’s Hansol riding on top of Johnny, legs on either side, with precision while the younger is thrusting upward in tandem, meeting him with every bounce just for effect. It’s Johnny teasing parted lips when he reaches for them, traces along the pulp and red lips which make Hansol whine. “Johnny…” he moans in a soft, keening tone that sets Johnny’s blood on fire, his body catches into flames, his entire being trap in an endless inferno. It’s Johnny enduring the slow and torturous pace that they have set themselves because they aren’t in a hurry, they have all night, and he wants to feel Hansol –all of Hansol. It’s Johnny leisurely indulging in the salted flesh of Hansol’s neck. It’s Hansol enduring the build-up of orgasm pooling in his lower belly that wavers just at the peak but never quite makes it, leaving him frustrated and unsatisfied.

It’s Hansol staring into spellbinding and carnal deep brown hued corneas that are bathed in lust and silent love; the other’s gaze makes him weak, his knees about to give out.

Making love is Johnny lavishing Hansol’s body with attention for hours and hours to the point where they’re so joined and Hansol is so filled that neither of them knows where one begins and the other ends, tears welling on the corner of his eyes for Hansol feels so complete and safe in the younger’s arms.

_It’s Hansol mumbling over and over, “ **I love you.** ”_

_And it’s Johnny saying, “I know.”_

 

**IV**

 

“You know, hyung. I’ve been thinking about this. It’s been like, what, two years since you and Johnny-hyung have been together?”

Hansol takes a second to think about it when Kun asks. Lately they’ve been hanging out with each other too much. Johnny has debuted along with 127 a few weeks ago, so Hansol and Kun were the only ones left in the dorm most of the time. Don’t be mistaken, Hansol is happy for Johnny when finds out about the news, when the younger tells him one night as they are cuddling in bed; he really is.

But he misses Johnny, misses the younger being around him all the time, being with him when they practice, or just seeing him. Now that Johnny’s busy, they rarely see each other and it pains his heart.

“Yeah, two years this Saturday.”

He and Johnny have known each other for four years, been pining on each other for three years and made things official after dating for a month, two years ago. But Hansol is pretty sure he already loved Johnny the moment they met.

Kun nods, gives him a smile, and glances around the living room. They are seating in front of the television, watching some cliche evening drama as they are waiting for the others to arrive so they can have dinner together – they have practices and are running late again. “I’m still surprised, hyung. I mean, who would’ve thought that you two would end up together,” Kun starts, “I really thought Johnny-hyung would end up with Ten-hyung and you with Yuta-hyung. After all this time, it still doesn’t make sense.”

Hansol will normally disagree, that Kun is spewing out nonsense again. But if he thinks about it more, Kun is on to something; he is probably right.

Johnny and Ten.

Hansol will be lying if he says that the thought never crossed his mind before. He also thinks the same, in all honesty. No matter whoever looks at it, Johnny and Ten are perfect for each other, they suit each other well, like as if they are meant to be together. Heck, even the fans ship the two! And Hansol knows that Ten likes Johnny too— Ten isn’t subtle with his intentions sometimes; the glow in his eyes when Johnny looks at him, the caliber of his grins whenever Johnny is around, the timbre of his laugh when Johnny makes a joke— he is the latter’s best friend.

But why did Johnny choose him instead of Ten?

Ten is pretty, hot and talented. Hansol is … just Hansol. Nothing more, nothing extraordinary.

Hansol and Yuta.

Hansol laughs at the idea, ridicules the very notion in his mind. Yuta is his best friend, his only confidant for everything, his soul mate and other half.

Definitely off limits.

Yuta is the first to know about his affections for Johnny even though Hansol never planned on telling anyone else. Yuta is  _that_ good at reading him. And their love for each other will never border that way.

It has been Johnny and will always be Johnny.

“Don’t forget. There is also Sehun,” Hansol adds unknowingly which he regrets the moment it rolls off his tongue. Kun frowns at him, scrunches his face in worry but Hansol did a dismissing gesture with his hand, telling him it was nothing and even gives him an assuring yet timid smile.

Sehun has always been an unpleasant topic, a subject never usually talked about, a territory best left uncharted, a memory that still haunts Johnny, and a thought that makes Hansol agitated whenever it is brought up, seeing as though his boyfriend visibly flinches at the mention of the name.

Yuta advises him, keeps telling Hansol for numerous times to just forget about Sehun and Johnny’s history together and just focus in their own, whenever Hansol will get insecure and worry about nothing. But how can he when Johnny himself doesn’t seem to have moved on?

Johnny is cheerful on most days but sometimes, just like any normal person, he breaks down and wrecks himself completely without notice. The way he looks at Hansol on certain occasions makes the older tense; that cold hurt in Johnny’s eyes are radiant, even at night. When he will stare afar from the windowsill, Hansol knows that the younger is over thinking again, remembering past events what are better left over and done.

Johnny is vulnerable like that, it makes him look weak— that’s why he’ll ask Hansol to leave him alone for awhile if he notices. Johnny doesn’t want Hansol to see, to be hurt because of him, because he still reminisces and can’t stop doing it. Old habits die hard.

But Hansol knows, he knows. It has been never a mystery to him, to any of them.

Johnny has had his heart shuttered to smithereens before, offered everything that he is without reservations, was left broken beyond repair, and is insecure to go through the same pain again.

Hansol isn’t Johnny’s first spring in winter, unlike how Johnny is Hansol’s first snowfall in late November.

It is an unspoken truth amongst them— Johnny loved Sehun first and foremost. They were close friends, trained by each other’s side before Sehun debuted with EXO. Something happened between them, causing them to drift apart and Sehun to leave and never look back. Nobody was entirely sure and Hansol doesn’t even wanna know.

Sehun is and will always be Johnny’s first love story, a love so bittersweet and cruel, a love story better left untold and buried in regrets and memories.

It hurts Hansol, though, when Johnny never says  _I love you_  every single damn time Hansol does. It is always Hansol, repeating the same phrase like a mantra.

Is it because Johnny still loves Sehun and not him?

How low has Hansol sunk to love someone whose heart is owned and yet destroyed by another so easily?

Hansol’s not his first, he knows that. But he doesn’t care, too.

He doesn’t like being the first to anything, does not want to be replaced when another comes and sweeps Johnny off his feet. He wants to be his last instead.

Not the first lie in April but the last truth told in December. Nothing follows after him, no one can take Johnny away; he is his to own, to cherish and to love for as long as the heavens permit.

Hansol loves him, more than words, more than anything, more than anyone, more than Sehun ever could.

Johnny is the stars that glistens beautifully above Hansol’s night sky that makes him stare at awe and admiration. He is the cold winter breeze that comes gushing through the air, making him shiver and numb. He is the rainbow after a heavy rain.

He is his entire universe.

So if Johnny loved Sehun, it is alright, it is in the past.

Now, only he and Johnny matters.

And if Johnny can’t tell him, it’s alright, too. Hansol will say it in the younger’s behalf instead. Words aren’t needed between them.

“He loves me and that’s all that matters,” he tells no one in particular.

Kun takes it as that. “It’s alright, hyung.” Kun offers and is met with rich honey shaded eyes when he regards him. “But I’m serious… you two are good together.”

“Yeah.” They really are. “I really love that asshole. Even when his personality is shit.”

“I heard that,” a voice came from behind, the sound of the door opening left their ears, unknowing that the members of NCT 127 come flooding into the room whilst they converse.

Hansol smiles a bit when arms weave around his torso and lips connect with his pulse— an endearment Johnny is fond of doing. “That was a compliment. One of those, ‘I love you no matter what’, deals.”

“Mhmm…” Johnny lets go to seat beside the older, engaging in a conversation about how their earlier schedule went.

 

_That night, after dinner and the others are asleep, when Johnny drags him to their room, and he has Hansol pinned by the bathroom wall, lips hot on that bobbing Adam’s apple, the older smiles unconsciously and grabs Johnny by his hair, eager and lost. “ **I love you so much,** ” Hansol whispers against Johnny’s ear._

_Johnny hums instead then gives him a mischievous smirk when he pulls back, and grabs his face gently on both sides to consume him from the outside in._

 

**V**

 

Two years is a long time but it is not quite long enough.

Hansol has made up his mind, plans to keep Johnny forever –to shackle and chain him—, leaving him with nowhere else to go other than beside him. To keep their souls linked until that scorching light luminous of adoration and love in their eyes dies out. Or until they burn each other and the cinders scatter, the wind blowing them away, ashes dancing majestically against the breeze, drifting freely from anyone’s grasps.

Hansol gets tired easily but he’ll never get tired of Johnny. Hansol wants that kind of forever; a forever with Johnny.

Taeyong nags him that he is rushing things between him and Johnny when he tells NCT 127’s leader about his idea. But what does he know? Their life as idols isn’t permanent; it will not last long— 5 to 6 years, give or take. Beauty ages and the hearts change through time; they’ll eventually be forgotten and thrown aside. But whatever he and Johnny have, what they share, he knows it’ll last a lifetime, an epoch of togetherness. 

It is worth the risk, Johnny is worth anything.

So Hansol orchestrates a plan, it isn’t a onetime thing—he has been thinking about it for a few months. A plan that consists of cooking dinner (because he never, ever cooks and Taeyong is strongly against it since he doesn’t want the kitchen to be burned down to the ground) and flowers— call him a sap but Johnny loves them—, scented candles, sweet classical music and a proposal that offers an eternity of being bonded and joined.

Besides Taeyong, he also tells Ten and Yuta. He needs second opinions and they gladly offer their assistance, showering him with their blessings, happy with his decision of being the one who makes the first move for once.

It’s a Saturday, which usually mean that Johnny doesn’t make it home until 3 o'clock in the morning of the following day at the earliest because of schedules— but he promises to come home at midnight— to go back to their dorm so that they can celebrate their anniversary together.

Hansol’s fully prepared for everything. He has bought the ring— a simple yet elegant white gold band that cost more than four months of allowances because Ten will chew him alive if he lets Hansol give his best friend anything less than he deserves—, he went grocery shopping and Taeyong already taught him how to make a mean 3 course dinner, weeks before.

Everything is going to be perfect.

 

 

Well…. not exactly.

 

When Hansol comes back from the store, plastic bags on his hands, and opens their dorm’s door, his heart stops beating for a fraction of a second and it feels like as if he forgets how to breathe. It starts again instantly, his blood is rushing and his ears are pounding because-

 

“Johnny?”

 

Johnny smiles at him when he turns around, “I kinda lied about not being able to come home early,” he says casually and shrugs like it was nothing. The cheeky bastard. “Taeyong helped me persuade Manager-hyung to left me off.”

Turns out, Johnny has been at the dorm the entire time Hansol went out. During that time, he set up a couple thousand of candles around the living room; kicks out the other members; compiles the perfect playlist, a soft melody booms from the speakers of the room; prepares the perfect desert; and makes a florist deflower so many roses for their petals that it hurts his heart.

It isn’t much, but nevertheless, Johnny wants the night to be perfect. Wants everything to be perfect for him— for the both of them.

So there Johnny is, partially sitting on the couch, dressed in Hansol’s favorite black wife beater and baggy pants with candles and rose petals scattered all over. There’s champagne at the side, cake, a can of whipped cream, and berries off to the side for fun. Johnny knows that this is what Hansol wants. Hansol always likes it when Johnny wears his clothes— the older loves romance—, and he likes it more when they play with food. Johnny knows that much. He knows Hansol so well.

“Took forever to light all of these goddamn candles. Had to ask Yuta to help me before I threw them out.” The younger beckons for Hansol to come closer because the older was just staring and their door is still open. Hansol has that intense dark chocolate gaze train on him that makes Johnny proud of himself for what he has achieved. “Hurry up and c’mere.”

Hansol listens. He shuts the door behind him, drops the bags he was carrying onto the floor, leaves them forgotten as he makes his way towards his boyfriend and stops just at the arm of the couch to stare at Johnny, glares at the younger, wanting nothing more than to wipe that cocky grin off his face with his own lips. “Fuck, you destroyed everything,” Hanosl whines with a frown. “I had plans too, you know.”

“I figured but,” he chuckles and it is music to Hansol’s ears. “I gotta tell you something so just listen, alright.”

“Alright.”

Johnny sits up and shifts a bit closer to Hansol, hand reaching for the elder’s. “We’ve been dating for a long time, right? We’ve been through a lot and we’ve endured some crazy shit. Training, debut and we’ve made it through it all –together. Me and you.”

He then stands up and walks right up to Hansol, wrap his arms securely on the elder’s waist and steers him impossibly closer— Hansol shudders when their eyes meet. “What I’m trying to say is…. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Hansol. I want to spend every night falling asleep with you in my arms and every morning waking up just the same.”

Hansol’s throat feels tight, a lump forms and it makes breathing difficult. Hansol is quiet as Johnny speaks. He is limiting himself. He has so much to say,  _so much_ , that but can’t. No words come out his tongue even if he tries— nothing. Because _fucking_  Johnny Seo.  _Seo Youngho_ , the bastard. Johnny— who never says shit like that, who is never open with his emotions before, who never once told him he loves him, just fucking downright proclaims him he wants them to be together! It was like as if he was offering Hansol the moon and he was the only thing that mattered.

Johnny— whose staring at him so lovingly, so gently with flushed cheeks, wet lips, and a smile that can assure him that he isn’t lying. Johnny— who just… “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you’re proposing.”

Johnny’s smile become wider, reaches till his eyes, and it is earth shattering. “I am. I want to be with you for the rest of my life because… I know I don’t say it all of the time, I probably never have and I’m sorry about that. I’ve caused you a lot of pain and yet you never demand anything from me. A lot of things happened in the past that I'm not proud of yet you stood by me through it all and…. I just want you to know,  **I love you so much, Hansol**. I mean it. Sorry if it took me awhile to finally have the balls to say it but it’s true. Like, sometimes I think I’m going nuts because-”

Hansol can’t take it anymore — can’t keep getting swept away like it is their first confession all over again. So he latches onto those plush lips and plunders that heated mouth, swallows every sound that attempts to ebb out. When they break apart, he is grinning like a moron. “Yes. God, yes,” Hansol is laughing when he answers.

And Johnny stares at him and nips his chin, “What’s so funny?”

“I was gonna propose to you tonight.” Hansol fishes around in his back pocket and pulls the box out before he forks it over to Johnny.

Dark eyes studies the box for a brief second before Johnny opens it with slim and slender fingers and he is so gorgeous, ethereal when he takes the thick silver band with their initials engraved at the center out of the box before staring at Hansol with watery eyes, and trembling lips. “Idiot…” He mumbles and hands the ring to Hansol who is stunned as to why the younger is returning it to him— afraid that he is being rejected. “You can still propose.”

Hansol snorts, but internally relived that it isn’t what he thinks, and manages to regain himself because he was frightened by the possibility of Johnny saying no. The younger doesn’t notice so he takes the ring off his hand and takes a step back, gets down on one knee in the middle of their glowing living room, surrounded by a pile of petals.

“Like you said, we’ve been through so much and we’ve made it this far but, what you don’t know is that I’ve never had any intentions of letting you go from the very beginning. Never.” He grabs the younger’s hand, draws him close. Kisses his scarred knuckles before he traps himself in gorgeous dark rich chocolate depths. “You’ve been by my side from the start and I want you to be there with me till the very end. I know that we’re young and we have our whole lives ahead of us but I want to spend it with you nevertheless. I want it to be you and me against the world. You and me until we’re nothing and everything at the same time.”

He slides the ring onto Johnny’s ring finger, eyes never leaving Johnny’s. “ **I love you more than I’ve ever loved anybody** and I want to be with you beyond life and death.”

“Say you’ll marry me.”

Even though it’s cheesy, almost memorized, but it is perfect in Johnny’s head. He looms over Hansol and bends down till they're the same height again, cups his handsome face and kisses waiting lips. He murmurs, “ **I love you** ,” before he kisses Hansol again. “Yes. I’ll marry you.”

_When all is said and done, things move along in a frenzy. From Johnny pushing his hands up on bare thighs after he swiftly took off Hansol’s shorts, hiking his shirt up to lick and bite at Hansol’s naval, down his happy trail, to that throbbing erection that so very much needs the attention of his mouth. And Johnny gives it; holds Hansol in place while he swallows him down. Hansol is gasping and clutching at strong shoulders and whispering Johnny’s name like a prayer. Hansol loves every second of it._

_Loves it more when they end up on the couch because he lets Johnny take the lead, lets Johnny take him, lets himself get ready to be made love to. Loves it when Johnny watches with darkening eyes as Hansol sheds his clothes and makes Johnny get fully undressed as well before he’s straddling him. Johnny’s mouth should be outlawed on account of the things it can do and say or even how just a single word from out of it has the ability to stir Hansol’s blood –make him feel like he’s boiling alive from the inside out._

_The world stood at a standstill when they’re joined._

_When he has Johnny’s length trapped in a vice grip inside of him, Hansol starts rocking on his lap while chanting from kiss swollen lips how much he “fucking loves” Johnny._

_Johnny just smirks, groans before he grips at soft, soft thighs. “ **Love you, too** …”he says._

**_Finally._ **

  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated.  
> Hmu at twt: @Kiiessa


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